
Glass 

Book_^ 
Copyright N°. 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



THE BORDER OF 
THE LAKE 



BY 
AGNES LEE 




BOSTON : SHERMAN, FRENCH 
Sc COMPANY : MDCCCCX 



Copyright, 19 10 
Sherman, French & Company 



"PS 35-^3. 



©Ci.A27)r.-j5 



For kind permission to reprint 
these poems, thanks are due to 
The North American Review y 
Appleton*s, The Atlantic Monthly ^ 
The Bookman, Collier^s, Lippin- 
cott'Sy The Independent, The Bell- 
man, The Youth^s Companion, The 
Reader, Poet-Lore, The Crafts- 
man, and The New England 
Magazine, and to Messrs. Small, 
Maynard & Company and Mr. 
George D. Sproul for the use of 
the sonnets " Love's Path, " and 
" To Theophile Gautier. " 



CO:N^TE]SrTS 

PAGE 

THE WANDER-WOMAN * . . . . 1 

LEAVES 2 

MOTHERHOOD 3 

TO A DREAMER 5 

THE JUGGLER 6 

THE BOY CRUSADER 8 

RAINDROPS 11 

YOUNG ROSINELLE 12 

STEPHANA ........ 14 

MOCK SUNLIGHT 16 

THREE YEARS 17 

THE SINGER OF THE SHADOWS . . 19 

THE WAIF 23 

SPEECHLESS LOVE 24 

THE IDOL 25 

IN THE HOUSE OF THE SOUL ... 27 

A LAMENT 28 

FUTURITY 29 

THE COWARD 30 

TWO WINDOWS 32 

COMPENSATION 33 

MID-OCEAN 34 

LONELINESS 36 

THE FORSAKEN PATH 37 

WHEN THE NIGHT COMES DOWN . . 38 

THE WRECK 39 

ASPIRATION 40 

THE CHRISTCHILD 41 



PAGE 

TO E. H 42 

IN THE SPRING 43 

A CHILD'S QUEST 44 

LOVE'S WAY 45 

BEFORE SLEEP 46 

TO-DAY 47 

DREAM LANGUAGE 48 

THE DESERTED HOUSE .... 49 

NOCTURNE 50 

A SONG OF THE TIDE 51 

TO N. S 52 

THE BORDER OF THE LAKE ... 53 

THE GOD AND THE OPAL .... 57 

THE BOYHOOD OF KEATS .... 58 

THE WRITTEN WORD 59 

DISENCHANTMENT 60 

THE SHADOW 61 

LOVE'S PATH 62 

MY GUEST 63 

BEETHOVEN'S PIANO 64 

A HINT OF SPRING 67 

THE SIGN 68 

THE POSTMAN 69 

VALENTINE 70 

SUN IN WINTER 71 

TO MY LAMP 72 

THE WIFE SPEAKS 73 

THE ASPHODEL 78 



THE BORDER OF THE LAKE 



THE WANDER-WOMAN 

The town and woods I span 

From height to height securely. 

And if I love no man, 

I love no woman, surely! 

O, give me day and the sun thereof, 

And night with never a goal. 

And never a love that's worth the love, 

But the love of a child's young soul ! 

Rains from the heaven's wide arch 

Troop down the dawn to smother. 

The long-lost waters march 

Back to the sea, their mother. 

The byre shall roof till dawn be red. 

Then on from sun to sun. 

They are more than the price of a crust and bed, 

The smiles of my little one. 

The tide the hour shall beat. 
The turbulent reminder. 
Kind are the folk we meet. 
The birds and beasts are kinder. 
Then up the road and o'er the wild, 
And through the darkest door. 
With ever and ever a little child. 
That skips and trips before. 



[1] 



LEAVES 

Little dead leaves, little dead leaves, 
Clamouring round my door. 
Now the summer wanes and the autumn cleaves ! 
I have seen ye oft before. 

We are little dead hands, little dead hands. 
Tapping, thy walls around. 
Living, we hid the sky^s blue lands. 
But now we hide the ground. 

Little dead hands, beckoning me 
Forth from a fire's red glow, 
If ye will tell me whither beck ye, 
I will open my door, and go. 



[2] 



MOTHERHOOD 

Mary, the Christ long slain, passed silently, 
Following the children joyously astir 
Under the cedrus and the olive-tree. 
Pausing to let their laughter float to her. 
Each voice an echo of a voice more dear. 
She saw a little Christ in every face; 
When lo, another woman, gliding near. 
Yearned o'er the tender life that filled the place. 
And Mary sought the woman's hand, and spoke: 
"I know thee not, yet know thy memory tossed 
With all a thousand dreams their eyes evoke 
Who bring to thee a child beloved and lost. 

"I, too, have rocked my little one. 

O, He was fair! 

Yea, fairer than the fairest sun. 

And like its rays through amber spun 

His sun-bright hair. 

Still I can see it shine and shine." 
"Even so," the woman said, "was mine." 

"His ways were ever darling ways," — 

And Mary smiled, — 
"So soft, so clinging! Glad relays 

Of love were all His precious days. 

My httle child ! 

My infinite star! My music fled!" 
"Even so was mine," the woman said. 



[3] 



Then whispered Mary: "Tell me, thou, 
Of thine." And she: 
"O, mine was rosy as a bough 
Blooming with roses, sent, somehow. 
To bloom for me! 
His balmy fingers left a thrill 
Within my breast that warms me still." 

Then gazed she down some wilder, darker hour, 
And said, when Mary questioned, knowing not: 

"Who art thou, mother of so sweet a flower.?" 

"I am the mother of Iscariot." 



[4 



TO A DREAMER 

Build air-castles, child. 
Build high and build regal. 
To gem-paven halls 
Bring bloom of the wild 
And wing of the eagle, 
To blazon the walls. 

Bring laughter and lay. 
Float standard and streamer 
From bastions upsprung. 
O when you are gray. 
Dream yet, for the dreamer 
Forever is young! 



[5] 



THE JUGGLER 

Come, children, come as I call. 
And over the play-stead gleam ! 
I stand by the middle wall 
To waken your wildest dream. 
Now, fathers, your babies fetch. 
With your pennies, or two, or ten. 
Yea, pity a juggling wretch. 
Ye are all of ye juggling men! 

Now the balls fly 
Thither and nigh. 
Purple and yellow. 
Come, little fellow! 
Come, little maid! 
Be not afraid. 
Dirks in the air. 
Far away ! There ! 
Where did they go. 
Whether or no.? 
How shall they come, 
Silver and dumb.'' 
Out of his cap! 
Out of her lap ! 

For one he tosses a truth. 
And one he tosses a lie. 
Some juggle with laws, forsooth, 
And some with a calumny. 

[6] 



And one hath a trick-tra-la 
He juggles upon his pen. 
Ye call him a poet. Ha ! 
Ye are all of ye juggling men! 

Now the balls fly, 
Thither and nigh, 
Purple and yellow. 
Come, little fellow! 
Come, little maid! 
Be not afraid. 
Out of her breast 
Birds shall fly west. 
Birds shall fly north. 
Hither they forth 
Out of her hair 
Into the air. 
Into the skies 
Out of her eyes ! 

My bonnet of bells I doff^. 
Ye mimics of men and maids! 
I must shoulder my shams, and off 
To the valley of evening shades. 
I must leave the children's land. 
Pennies? Pennies again? 
Now thanks to the little hand! 
Ye are all of ye juggling men! 



[7] 



THE BOY CRUSADER 

*' Father, my feet are bleeding sore. 
With stubble, rock and stem, 
I see a roof, the hill-top o'er! 
Is this Jerusalem?'* 

"Jerusalem is far, — perchance 
As far again away 
As our beloved land of France 
We left at spring's first ray." 

^'Father, I hunger. Bread is none. 

The way seems long to go!'* 
*'Now have no hunger, little one, 

But hunger for the foe. 

*'The Arab and the Turk now tear 
The sacred citadel, 
And alien armies cloud the air 
Like grasshoppers of hell. 

**The son of the Egyptian slave 
Proclaims the pagan horde. 
Then on ! then on ! to swell the brave 
Militia of the Lord!" 

* * Father, at noon an aged man 
Dropped fainting on the wold. 
I saw thee loiter from the van, 
I saw thee take his gold." 

[8] 



"By Urban and by Adrian, yea! 
The deed was in the right. 
'Tis writ: 'The thief of yesterday 
Shall be to-morrow's knight.' " 

'^Father, I see a sunlit tower 
Gleam like a diadem! 
Is this the honey and the flower? 
Is this Jerusalem?^* 

"Hush, child! 'Tis but a stable-town 
Where beasts of burden wait. 
'Tis not for many a red sundown 
We reach the holy gate." 

^'Father^ last night I could not rest, 
I saw, from my dimi place, 
A face lie laughing on thy breast. 
'Twas not my mother* s face.*' 

"By Urban and by Adrian, hush ! 
The crimson cross shall win, 
For him who seeks the battle-rush, 
Remission for all sin." 

"0 I am hut thy step's delay! 

father, loose my hand! 

1 can no longer keep the way. 
Nor reach the holy land. 

[9] 



^'Yet it were sweet to live, and toil 
Unto the warring tryst, 
To spill my blood upon the soil 
That drank the blood of Christ. 

^'Father! I see a rock-built dome 
Within my closing eyes. 
I see a city through the gloam. 
And sworded angels rise. 

"They come, they come, with shout and 
stir! 
In hosts they gather them! 
Is . . . this . . . the holy sepulcher? . . . 
Is . . . this . . . Jerusalem?*' 



[10] 



RAINDROPS 

She thought the rain would surely bring 
The dear one to her door. 
Earth's every little upward thing 
A cap of raindrops wore. 

She knew he loved their peaceful sound, 
And blessed the gleaming gems, 
Or laughed to think his forehead crowned 
With such cool diadems. 

Upon the path she heard them beat. 
And whispered low his name. 
Sometimes she took them for his feet. 
His feet that never came. 

She heard them falling in the rills. 
And wept for what might be, 
Nor caught the music on the hills 
Of higher destiny. 



[11] 



YOUNG ROSINELLE 

Young Rosinelle, 
Following the silver stair, 
Looked on mere and hillock fair. 
Dim lay the dell. 

Bright, starry dust 

From the stair fell down through time. 

Once she had begun to climb. 

Climb then she must. 

"Come, daughter, back!" 
Went her mother's lonely call — 

"Child, thy mother was thine all, 
Yet now, alack, 

"Now shreds of dreams 
Fill thine eyes that turn from me ! 
Daughter, what beseeches thee, 
Where the moon gleams?" 

Called Rosinelle: 
"O the secrets crossed my door, 
And I am a child no more, 
For their far spell! 

"Helpless thou art. 
Steel-girt is her hidden power 
Who shall scale the moon's high tower. 
Hush, mother-heart!" 

[12] 



"Hear, Rosinelle! 

Song of home thy mother sings." 
"Nay, my heart hath song of wings, 

Wings that compel. 

"Once, mother sad, 
Once thy feet would climbing stray. 
And hast thou forgot the way? 
Then, sweet and mad 

"Did the moon glow. 
And thy mother sought and yearned. 
But thine eyes were dreaming turned. 
Ah, long ago!" 

"Child of my fears," 
Called her mother far to her, 

"Well I know the days that were. 
And the wild tears !" 

Called Rosinelle: 
"Tears or triumph, I foresee 
That my child shall dream from me. 
May she dream well!" 

Called Rosinelle: 
"And her feet shall upward roam, 
While a little song of home 
Floats from the dell !" 

[13] 



STEPHANA 

"We thought her running never would stop. 

And why did she leave our sight?" 
"O, she has gone to the high hill-top. 

Where she loves the lingering light.'''' 

"Why did she hurry from us all? 

We followed so merry-wild!" 
^^She heard you neither speed nor call. 

She is fancy's darling child. 

^^She rises out of the hush of dark 
Into a hush of day. 
She may not hear the song of lark. 
Nor your resounding play.'* 

"No laugh is so bright as Stephana's laugh, 

No eyes are so clear and blue." 
"0, they're the speech of her soul, hy half 

Glimpsing and laughing through.'' 

"We never before felt anything soft, 
Till we felt of Stephana's hair. 
Look, we can see it waving aloft, 
Abrim of the hill-top fair. 



[14] 



"Why to the hill-top did she go, 
Where never our feet may stir?" 

"To hear the secrets we may not know. 
That the fairies whisper to her; 

^'To dance to the music of fairy beat. 
With fairy folk. And ah. 
Ah, this is why no smile is so sweet 
As the smile of Stephana!" 



[15] 



MOCK SUNLIGHT 

My windows face the northern sky austere. 
A melancholy light alone is theirs. 

The Sun they never drew. 
Across the way his flaming glory fares 
To other windows, fortuned all the year 

His image to renew. 

Each morning unto mine a phantom cold, 
A mirrored Sun they send, a pale decoy. 

My somber house to haunt, 
Like love's warm sunlight flashed from eyes of 

joy 
To wistful eyes that never shall behold 

The royal ministrant. 



16 



THREE YEARS 

At vigil now above her sleep 
The moon comes bending low. 
The sea wafts music tender, deep. 
A million star-eyes glow. 

Her sweetness moon and stars and sea 
Through scent of evening say. 
Her years, a triune mystery. 
Have hither passed to-day. 

From depths of dawn incarnadine 
I saw them upward start. 
Draw near me wistfully, to twine 
Soft hands about my heart. 

Their darling looks were different looks, 
Their touches not the same. 
They bore to me three separate books, 
With love's one luminous name. 

Again I trod a wonder-isle 
Beneath an aureole. 
Where infant eyes first held a smile, 
A dream of heaven in the soul; 

Again caught petals pure as snows, — 
A little word was each, — 
Such dear, shy things as innocence blows, 
First fluttered on wings of speech; 

[H] 



Beheld again a marvel wrought 

Within a weed from the wild. 

For weeds are fairest flowers, when brought 

With the love of a gleaming child. 

Three years! To-day I trembled as 
I saw her summer-crowned, 
Standing so small, her hair, like grass. 
Waving so near the ground! 

But love shall guard her dusk and light. 
Sheltered and warm is she. 
Three little years wing down the night. 
A Fourth chngs fast to me! 



[18] 



THE SINGER OF THE SHADOWS 

If I could dwell 

Where Israfel 

Hath dwelt, and he where I, 

He might not sing so xvildly well 

A mortal melody, — 

While a holder note than this might swell 

From my lyre within the sky. 

— Edgar Allan Poe, 

From far beyond all death, all spaces dark, 

With art sublime 
The singer of the shadows came to mark 

His land, his time. 

Stranger to joy, in bitterness he trod 

The ways of men. 
The hour's reality was not his god. 

Nor day his ken. 

His tenebrous thoughts harmoniously soared 

On sovereign breath 
In mystical vibrations of the chord 

Of night and death. 

Poet of grief, he sought her loneliest cave. 

Her ultimate aisle. 
Her ruined keep, her mouldering architrave 

And peristyle. 

[19] 



Poet of tombs, the midnight was his theme. 

Adventuring far, 
He pierced the opal center of a dream, 

Or of a star. 

Poet of beauty, he bestowed her sleep. 

And rich rebirth 
In music masterful, fantastic, deep. 

To thrill the earth,— 

Each note the whisper of a soul, apace 

O'er passion sped. 
Driven to crowd the ghostly populace 

Of voices dead. 

Let those who walk with lore the beaten road 

From others ask 
The daily bread of thought, cheer for the load. 

Sun for the task. 

An hour there is when sunshine brings to pain 

Unfaith, unrest. 
When she would feel the footfalls of the rain 

Upon her breast. 

Then, circled in a misty aureole. 

His charm distils 
A craved narcotic for the fevered soul, 

From sorrow's hills. 

[20] 



Dear singer! Human hearts shall ever hold 

His melodies. 
They flash their beacons over manifold 

Fair lands and seas. 

England acclaims him. France, attuned, aware. 

Greets him with bay, 
And calls him brother, through her Baudelaire, 

And Mallarme. 

And we to-day the sweeter count the soil 

His wandering pressed. 
His dust has flowered. The darkness of his toil 

The light has blessed. 

Too long have lettered dwarf and neophyte 

Cast him their stones, 
Who flesh beheld, not spirit, worked their blight 

Above his bones. 

Enough of slander! Bolted be the gate 

To evils wild 
Envies evolve and lies perpetuate! 

Art owns her child. 

Cradle him soft, O Art, who only knew 

To speak thy tongue. 
Thou being his life, and his life's residue 

The dream unsung. 

[21] 



Thy lesser planets let his glow outlive, 

High and apart, 
Who, earthbound, gave thee all he had to give — 

His tortured heart. 

Pride has departed, Doom has crossed the door. 

Love calls farewell. 
But from thy firmament forevermore 

Shines Israfel! 



[22] 



THE WAIF 

I MET a threadbare waif below the town. 
Sad were his eyes, and from his dusty coat 
Roses no longer crimson dangled down. 
Pebbles that had been kisses decked his throat. 

He held a cup, and listlessly and slow 
Drank wine, as one who had no joy thereof. 
And when I asked his name, he answered low: 
"My name is Habit — once they called me Love." 



[23 J 



SPEECHLESS LOVE 

"Who art thou, child, 
What is thy name, thou little songless boy, 
Hither impelled my peace-right to destroy? 
I guess ; yet ah, I know not who thou art. 
Thine eyes are bright, and I can hear thy heart 
Beat very wild." 

Quiet to sit. 

Full of the strange, sweet language silence 
speaks, 

This is his power. From far high mountain- 
peaks 

He hath it, and through all infinity. 

Whether the sun decoy or shadow be, 
He guardeth it. 

"O little one, 
O little one ! the world is large and cold. 
Then let the melancholy world run old. 
But take my frozen hands unto thy breast, 
And tell me once the only name, the best. 
Ere die the sun." 

His eyes aflame 

Are wide and wet. Noon's light is on his hair. 
He would away, afar, he knows not where. 
But still he sits and keeps his secret well. 
And breaks his heart with what he will not tell, 
Yet names no name. 

[24] 



THE IDOL 

And also concerning Maachah the mother of Asa, 
the king, he removed her from being queen, be- 
cause she had made an idol in a grove. 

2 Chronicles, XV. 

"Mother, what dost thou sway unto, 

Ponder upon?" 
*' Something to whisper to, pray unto, 

Asa, my son.'' 

"Put off thy crown — then yea to thee — 

Bow and blaspheme!" 
"Take thou my queenhood — / say to thee. 

Take not my dream.*' 

"Let me draw near to thy dream, mother, 
Let me draw near. 
Under the bough and the beam, mother, 
Let it appear." 

'''This my fingers made, leave to me! 
Bendest thou nigh? 
Thou my body made, cleave to me. 
Worship, as I!" 

"Nay, I have fired the form thereof, 
Fired the hair. 
How all the grove is warm thereof. 
Luminous, fair! 

[25] 



"See how the gold flame merrily 
Wasteth its breast. 
Hath it a word now verily 
For thy soul's rest? 

"Mark how the light f orsweareth it. 
Never it strove. 
The brook of Kidron beareth it 
Far from the grove. 

"Cleansed thy heart I show to thee, 

Well have I done." 
^'Woe to thee, woe to thee, woe to thee, 

Asa, my sonT* 



[26] 



IN THE HOUSE OF THE SOUL 

Across the fair coppice the gables appear. 

Men pause as they pass, 
Saying "Evil's an alien that holdeth not here 

Her shadowy glass" — 

Saying "Here all the day in the still, ordered 
hours 
How peacefully roll. 
Life's azurine rills through escarpments of 
flowers, 
Past the house of the soul !" 

Serene at the portal in sun-lumined air 

The housewife doth sit. 
White, white is her garment, and smooth is her 
hair 

As the amber of it. 

At evenfall climbs she (the dark is before) 

A stair, stealthily. 
She glides through a hallway, she opens a door 

With her ghmmering key. 

Lo, memory's room ! Lo, the mouldering years ! 

She locks her fast in. 
It feeds on her breast, and she drinks of its tears, 

And sweet is the sin. 

[27] 



A LAMENT 

Out of the bloom and sun 
Constrained to an early rest, 
His twenty years are run, 
His aims are locked in his breast. 

Earth covers with grass of spring, 
Nor careth, for all we fret, 
Who said in our sorrowing: 
"His bed-time is not yet !" 

There stood where the cypress bends 
Senility, garrulous, cold. 
Now forth with the folk he wends 
In the sun with its bloom of gold. 

O shape on the warm highway. 
Hugging your hundred years, 
Shivering all the day. 
Shaken with many fears — 

Make me an answer true 

Out of the words you rave! 

Is life so sweet to you. 

That youth must fill your grave? 



[28] 



FUTURITY 

I WATCH a lovely child illume 
The house with rose and heather-bell, 
And in her arms amid the bloom 
Divine the hidden asphodel. 

I see the work of science fail, 
And hear the hapless word it saith, 
Ere, triumphing, it lift the grail 
Of life unto the lips of death. 

I note the spirit's dual might. 

The hurtling blows, the shafts that rend, 

Where right seems wrong, and wrong seems 

right. 
And know the conqueror at the end. 

I watch beside the river moon. 
And let another stretch a hand. 
Ever I know that late or soon 
Art's noble passenger shall land. 

Unto the glittering To Be 
My glances pierce the cycles through. 
I see and wait, and wait and see. 
And say at last of all: "I knew." 



[29] 



THE COWARD 

Out of the harbour, out to sea 

I glide, I glide. 
Grief it was urging me, urging me 

To seek the tide. 

Fresh flies the wind, and salt the spume 

From crest to crest. 
Strong are my oars that dip the gloom,- 

But faint my breast. 

Little home harbour, dear thou wert. 

But forth must I. 
Xiittle home harbour of my hurt, 

Good-bye, good-bye! 

Swiftly the lights recede. How soon 

The billows toss ! 
Into the harbour of the moon 

I cross, I cross. 

What is it looms so black before. 

With wild, wet locks? — 
Destiny, — from the ocean's floor 

That rises, mocks! 



[30] 



Cold is the dark. My failing arms 

Guide not the boat. 
Fear is upon me. Devil-charms 

Weigh round my throat. 

Ah, home lights, draw me back from sea! 

The lights are gone. 
Now help me, God, if God thou be ! 

For I must on ! 



[31] 



TWO WINDOWS 

I SEE but this — I dwell so high — 
The tallest tree-top on the sky. 

Claire has an attic window, too; 

She never sees the sun gleam through. 

She looks on domes and grimy towers, 
And many clocks that clang the hours. 

She says she likes the city's way, 
That all her life is holiday. 

But once at noon I chanced to meet 
Our Claire upon the city street. 

So weary-browed, I knew the stress, 
I knew her heart's great loneliness. 

O, sometimes there's a cloud I see 
Between the blessed sun and me, 

And sometimes there's a sound I hear, 
Alone, when dusk is drawing near, 

A sound like song in wayward flight. 
Or laughter on the wings of night. 

Now keep me near thee, sweet, warm sky,- 
My attic is so safe, so high! 

Fate, hold me here ! Be all I know 
The topmost wave of apple-blow ! 



COMPENSATION 

Over the grasses sere and brown 
The silver shadows press. 
With giant steps the sun strides down 
The golden terraces. 
Silver and gold! But my heart grieves 
"O, for the little vanished leaves! " 

The ghosts of little leaves upsailed 
In song, on winter's wing: — 
''Forgotten wonders were. We veiled 
From you their gladdening. 
lift your eyes across the plain! 
Behold, the hills have come again r* 



[33] 



MID-OCEAN 

The one gray sea, 
The one gray sky, 
From dawn to dawn, 
And weary lawn 
Of deck, where we 
Pace fitfully. 
And onward sweep 
O'er infinite deep. 



Knew we the gleam 
Of steadfast towers. 
Of roofs and spires. 
And household fires? 
Or did we dream? 
And were there flowers? 
The storms that blow 
Are all we know. 



Through leaping cave 
Our caravan 
Imprisoned moves. 
And nothing proves 
But wave on wave. 
And what is man — 
A mote, to cross 
Where Time shall toss? 

[34] 



Down the abyss, 
Up the sky's way, 
We plunge, we pull. 
O wonderful! 
For man is this. 
That on the day, 
The hour he planned. 
Our ship must land! 



[35] 



LONELINESS 

Alone to walky alone to weepy 
Alone to face the final sleep ! 

I heard the music of the trees 
Forever choiring in the breeze. 

And in the woods the flowers that mass 
And shake afar their bells of glass. 

On a high tower I set my light, 
And waited, waited through the night. 

I set my signal over me. 

But no one passed upon the sea. 



[36] 



THE FORSAKEN PATH 

How straight the young path wore ! 
So eager door to door 
Morning and evenfall 

Friendsliip sped I 
But fateful words were cast. 
From door to door at last 
Look eyes inimical, 

Rancour-fed. 

Soon shiill the infinite 
Tall grasses cover it. 
The clover be aware 

And unclose. 
Where footsteps are forgot 
Shall flame the bergamot, 
Or now and then a fair 

Wilding rose. 

O path. O path uncrossed I 
Is nothing ever lost, — 
Xo mood, no impulse free, 

Xo black hour? 
In rains we know not of 
Drenched as the roots of love, 
Shall even enmity 

Bear its flower.^ 



[STJ 



WHEN THE NIGHT COMES DOWN 

Lonely night and chill thereof! 
Night of memories bled! 
This has been a woman's dread, 
Since a woman's love. 

One to roam, and one to stand 
Longing and bereft, 
Still the lore that Sappho left 
Shows to every land. 

Ah, but well the joy and rue, 
Well the long before, 
If one dusk he pass my door. 
At the hour we knew. 

And remember, for the crown 
Of the stars that glow. 
Pass, and say: "I loved her so!" 
When the night comes down. 



[38] 



THE WRECK 

There was the wreck, a league from out the 

shore. 
The crew were feasting when the crash was 

heard. 
One long vibration, and the ship was calm, 
Till faces cut the fog upon the deck. 
Soon came the sunlight forth and showed a wan, 
Gray field of glass, while darkling here and 

there 
Life's lovers buoyed and sank, or desperately, 
With curses on their Hps for such a wrong. 
Clung horror-keen to timbers that betrayed. 
I wonder, was there one among them all 
Had waited wistful-souled for chance's sign. 
Who hailed the shock, and clove the deep with 

praise ? 



[39] 



ASPIRATION 

The running waves sigh, 
The chfFs are so high! 
The soaring cloud weeps, 
So high the star creeps. 
And thou, httle heart. 
Tear-misty thou art 
As yon misty star, 
Love's face is so far! 



[40] 



THE CHRISTCHILD 

A WOMAN sings across the wild 
A song of wonder sweet, 
And everywhere her little Child 
Follows her gliding feet. 

He flutters like a petal white 
Along the roadway's rim. 
When He is tired, at latter-light, 
His mother carries Him. 

Sometimes a little silver star 

Floats softly down the air, 

Past mountains where the pure snows are, 

And sits upon His hair. 

Sometimes, when darkness is unfurled. 
Upon her breast He lies, 
And all the dreams of all the world 
Flock to His dreamy eyes. 



[41] 



TO E. H. 

(Acknowledging Lilies.) 

When they sought my view, 

Quaint as from a picture olden, 

Lilies fresh with dew, 

Tall and straight and white and golden. 

Thus I fancied you ! 

Yet I lacked you, fancy winging. 

Till, with fervour true, 

In my soul I heard them singing. 



[42] 



IN THE SPRING 

Joyously planting, a young child said: 
"Seeds, you shall blossom when spring is new, 
And all the garden be gold and red, 
As all my dear little plans come true." 

Spring has ghded with fond, warm feet. 
All the dear little plans came true. 
But the fairest flower that ever was sweet 
Is lying lower than seed or dew. 



[43] 



A CHILD'S QUEST 

I SAW on heaven's boundaries 
A something gleam and shine. 
I said "A golden star it is, 
Out on the world's dim line," 

I ran where led the little ray 
That through the twilight spun. 
"Now follow here," it seemed to say, 
And "Up the ledge now run." 

Cold, cold the winter blew the sands. 
But on and on I passed. 
Said I: "The star will warm my hands, 
When once I hold it fast." 

But ah! no golden star I found, 
And no horizon's edge. 
Only a spot of ice lay, round 
And shivering on the ledge. 

And so I weep, as you would do. 
If you had run so far, 
To come upon the ice, where you 
Had hoped to find a star. 



[44] 



LOVE'S WAY 

O I COULD sing of love and sing again, 
Fashion a wonder-word love's way to prove, 
Attune my lyre to love's potential strain, 
Who knew not love. 

Now I would sing, would sing of love and fire. 
It is the day of days. But I am dumb. 
Yea, helpless I beseech a vacant lyre. 
For love is come. 



[46] 



BEFORE SLEEP 

O CHILD of weeping, here's the night! 
O child of struggle, rest thee now. 
Let peace come nestle on thy brow. 
Put out the light — 

Nor back unto the battle hark. 
Now in thy room at evening's goal 
Put out the light. And in thy soul 
Put out the dark. 



[46] 



TO-DAY 

To-day, a prattling child, goes forth attended 
By two unfailing nurses, forms half seeming, 
That with its shadow on the way are blended. 
And all its noise may startle not their dreaming. 

Their eyes are sealed. Their dark lips give no 

tiding. 
To-morrow, Yesterday, they turn them never. 
Thus laughs To-day, to each a hand confiding, 
A sound between two silences forever. 



[47] 



DREAM LANGUAGE 

My dreams with many a light 
From thee come winging. 
Thou art the strength of my night, 
Singing and singing. 

Sometimes in dark of sighs, 
Through clouds that ravel, 
A golden ray from the skies 
Tells thy soul's travel. 

Or the mighty wave will rejoice, 
Till its cadence fill me. 
And I know the call of thy voice. 
For the hopes that still me. 

As I wake, in the silence rare 
Of the night, grown rarer. 
O I wait thee, at day, blown fair! 
And the day is fairer! 



[48] 



THE DESERTED HOUSE 

They kept a lifeless form within the room, 
And decked his brow with roses red of bloom, 
Nor saw his face more white beneath the red. 
Beside the hearth a goodly feast they spread 
Of meat and wine. "He will not taste thereof !" 
They called, — and called at last: "Ah, dead is 

Love! 
See! Who comes fingering his garment's hem.^* 
Destiny, drawn to sing Love's requiem!" 

They have gone down their ways. The dwell- 
ing stands 
Forsaken now amid the open sands. 
Mute is the morning of their minstrelsies. 
Yet of a night the moonlit organ-keys 
Rise to an unseen touch, the corridor 
Awakes to pattering footsteps on the floor, 
A little silver ghost runs desolate. 
And beats his arms against the iron gate. 



[49] 



NOCTURNE 

Traffic sleeps and towers hide. 
On the bridge 'tis eventide. 

Now each lamplight's golden quiver 
Dances on the peaceful river; 

And the gazing soul broods long, 
Sweet with its unuttered song. 

Come, thou Night all still and fair! 
Spread thy beauty through the air. 

Rock my heart with fancies bright, 
As the river rocks the light. 

Waft my spirit long reprieve 
From its thoughts of yestereve. 

When I saw the shadows shiver. 
And the mist was on the river, 

And the lights were threads of tears 
Stretched across the endless years. 



[50] 



A SONG OF THE TIDE 

Lift me into thy barque, Love. 
My own it is poor and spent. 
Take me out of the dark, Love, 
To the country of thy content. 

I would sit so safe, so still, Love, 
Sheltered and sure and strong, 
My will my captain's will. Love. 
I have tossed in the tide so long! 

Thine eyes are keen to the star. Love. 
Thou wilt not take me in. 
Thou speedest more fast, more far, Love, 
The land of the lights to win. 

Thou'lt look not back from the stern. Love, 
When my barque is a blot of brown. 
To see it struggle and turn. Love, 
Or dip in the twilight down. 



[51] 



TO N. S. 
With Tales by Stevenson, — 

The tales we three have read in the days of 

ember, 
That in some far year, on the circle of life's loud 

camp, 
You will read again perhaps, and, perhaps, 

remember. 
And ache for the little house and the quiet lamp. 



[52] 



THE BORDER OF THE LAKE 

THE L.AKE 

MIGHTY Lake, protean water, lore 

Of elemental passions swift and keen, 
More fair than any ocean I had seen 1 

1 loved thee for the city on thy shore, 
Strugghng and passionate as thou, and for 
Thy far white company of sails serene. 
The schooner looming black upon thy sheen, 
The luring secret of thy treacherous floor, — 

And for the pleasant room above thy piers, 
Whose windows opened on thy surges wild, 
Where I could hear thee thunder and rejoice. 
Then leap to me, O Lake, across the years. 
And take these memories of a little child 
Who could not go to sleep without thy voice ! 

ANEMONES 

Near to thy foam, over a sandy line. 
There was an ancient closure of oak-trees, 
About whose feet radiant anemones, 
Drinking the morning flush incarnadine. 
Laughed for their taste of such a sparkling 

wine. 
How far the smoke-fed city was from these. 
Trailing a cloud of black along the breeze! 
Only thy breath their sweetness could divine. 

[53] 



I gathered, gathered under every bough, 
And took my clusters home. . . . The years are 

long! 
Now in another land I dreaming sit 
Above a book, till city, grove and thou 
Come back to me, like flashes of a song, 
With one anemone I crushed in it. 

THE SUICIDE 

Sometimes, O Lake, I feared thee! I recall 

Coming upon a little somber band 

That hurried something silent o'er the sand. 

A woman's name beset the evenfall. 

I guessed the stiffened horror of her shawl, 

And followed not, who could not understand. 

But this I knew, watching thy waves expand : 

Love had she loved, yet loved thee more than all. 

At night her footsteps pattered on the roof; 

Her frozen form made palpable the air ; 

Her staring drowned eyes pierced my bedroom 

door. 
Life's deep enigma thrilled with vague reproof 
In thy loud voice, and, filled with first despair, 
I feared thee, as I never feared before. 

MOONLIGHT 

I tip-toed to my window through the moon 
One silver hour, and saw thee tranquilly 
Stretching afar unto eternity. 

[64] 



Once to my shuddering spirit o'er the dune 
Thy face was dark. But now the air was boon, 
A light serene had risen over thee, 
And thou wert very fair and good to see, 
Soft with moon-diadems and breath of June, 

Letting the infinite skies pierce down thy heart. 
Thy heart, as vast and infinite as they. 
Crooning so sweet, so wistful a decoy. 
Night lingered on, forgetful to depart. 
And for her peace could slumber not, but lay 
In wide-eyed wonder at her own deep joy. 

CALM AND TUMULT 

When thy far-jettying timbers were agleam 
With winter, I would run their walls to scale, 
And found thee covered with a soft snow-veil, 
Light as the gauzy wonder of a dream. 
I saw thee hold thy breath, and rigid seem, 
As feigning death, cold above peak and shale 
And wreck and spar, stretched in thy shroud, as 

pale 
As palest wraith, calm with the calm supreme. 

Or, after some tumultuous night, I found 

Thy giant lift of water crystallized 

To grottoes gemmed of roof and architrave, 

Vast, icy areas of mine and mound. 

And, eager, awed, myself in magic guised, 

I penetrated cave on echoing cave. 

[55] 



THE CASTLE 

There stood a factory, old, forsaken, bare, 
Upon thy brim. But, winter storms begun. 
Thy foam a dazzling masonry had spun. 
And made of it a castle golden-fair. 
With bastions diamonded, and crystal flare 
Of parapets that caught the frozen sun. 
And radiant arches ogival, where won 
The jewelled gleam of many a spiral stair. 

Sweet Phantasy! My will has lost her knack 
Of sorcery to clothe hfe's barren walls. 
Reason, her ancient enemy, has smiled 
And forced his fellowship upon my track. 
Till Phantasy is but a voice that calls: — 
"Whom I would keep must stay a little child !" 



[56] 



THE GOD AND THE OPAL 

To Theophile Gautier 

Gray caught he from the cloud, and green 

from earth, 
And from a human breast the fire he drew, 
And life and death he blended in one dew. 
A sunbeam golden with the morning's mirth, 
A wan, salt phantom from the sea, a girth 
Of silver from the moon, shot colour through 
The soul invisible, until it grew 
To fulness, and the opal song had birth. 

And then the god became the artisan. 
With rarest skill he made his gem to glow, 
Carving and shaping it to beauty such 
That down the cycles it shall be to man, 
And evermore man's wonderment shall know 
The perfect finish, the immortal touch. 



[5T] 



THE BOYHOOD OF KEATS 

Bound to the gods whom every orb enrings, 
And passionate as mortal children are, 
He paced with golden footsteps of a star, 
Unheeded yet of the world's garlandings. 
Science drew near and uttered fateful things. 
Traffic rushed by upon its sounding car. — 
Ever he heard the Muse that from afar 
Besought him in a secret song of wings. 

Brother of beauty! Dreamer of an art 
That was to limn Hyperion! Boy sublime! 
Our modern day is yearning back to thee, 
And, with its heart aglow upon thy heart. 
Feels the warm recentness of Milton's time, 
And Shakspere, closer by a century! 



[58] 



THE WRITTEN WORD 

The helpless written word ! The word begun, 
What magic shall foretell the answering eye? 
Merriment may intrude upon a sigh, 
Or sober thought arrive to cloud a sun. 
The spoken word? A thousand signs upon 
The listener's face shall guide fortuity 
Within the shaping, and the blundering cry 
Of impulse in an echo be undone. 

Yet if the pen have tarried? How the miles 
Go lengthening! The weary day but crawls 
To weary day, the oriole unheard, 
The banks bereft of any flower that smiles. 
And in the shadow all remembrance calls, 
And all the heart: "O, for the written word! " 



[59] 



DISENCHANTMENT 

Ever the calm abundant days in dream 

Across a pleasant land I used to pass. 

Above me in heaven's roseate amass 

I read with fervency a tale supreme 

Of friend and friend; or in the moon's long 

gleam 
I bowed me over in the silver grass, 
Straining my eyes to see how lovely was 
The image of an angel in the stream. 

Ah well ! the land another name may bear, 
And now I count me of the worldly-wise. 
Still rather would I trust again, and stray 
Forever in the olden-scented air. 
Though fainter and more far down waves of 

sighs 
I saw a precious halo float away. 



[60] 



THE SHADOW 

He wept to feel its presence in the room, 
Ever in waking or in slumbering, 
The shade that held his youth beneath its wing 
Void of great visions and bereft of bloom. 
Now as a man it marks him with its doom; 
Weighted in winter, sunless in the spring. 
His poor heart seemeth like a stony thing 
Hope decks as living flowers deck a tomb. 

Or if for one short span he see it not. 
Breathing the sunshine of a spirit free, 
Or if he be at dusk love's neoph3i:e. 
There waits at dawn the figure he forgot 
Beside his bed, and whispers ruthlessly: 
"Now pay me tears for yesterday's delight!" 



[61] 



LOVE'S PATH 

Long parted are the shadows of the night, 
That bore away my dreams to other air. 
The cheated hours of Hfe are lying bare, 
And what was far and fashioned out of sight, 
Stark in the day is pitilessly bright. 
Hypocrisy, so foul she seemeth fair, 
WaLketh with pure pale blossoms in her hair. 
While Truth remains a thing of mould and 
blight. 

Think not mine eyes are veiled to earth's in- 
trigues, 
That blindness led me to thee all the way. 
But long the new sands reach, the old retire. 
And many leagues have barred out many 

leagues. 
And all my soul speeds forth to thee to-day, 
A strong, white love, flown undismayed through 
fire. 



[62] 



MY GUEST 

In wearied hope I waited for Success. 
There was a knock. Into my silent hour 
A form there swept, and perfume of a flower. 
"And art thou come," I cried, "O arbitress 
Of my long fellowship with strife and stress.'' — 
But comest in the night, thou, dawn's avower.'^ 
And where the jewelled splendour of thy power, 
Thy crown of bay, the glory of thy dress?" 

"Nay, I am Failure" came a voice forspent. 
Then round her presence such a light there 

seemed. 
As suddenly a star had crossed my door. 
She sat her down beside my hearth, and bent 
Her eyes upon me. For a space I dreamed. 
And strong I rose, as never strong before. 



[63] 



BEETHOVEN'S PIANO 

When the call has summoned Jrom the groundy 
When at last the soul that drew the sound 

Taketh wings, 
Dust of time informed with image vain. 

We remain. 

Wood and strings. 

If a pilgrim, to the shrine avowed, 
Touch thy hallowed keys, a discord loud 

Answereth 
Through the silent room, a cry for him, 

Antonym 

Of all death, 

For the master spirit who could sight 
Through the world of sound a world of light 

Heavenmost. 
Once the name of Harmon?/ I bore. 

Plead no more! 

Sleep, poor ghost! 

O thou helpmate of the master's toil. 
Time shall not distune, nor aught despoil 

Thy sure fame. 
Means of very soul made vibrative. 

Thou shalt live 

In his claim. 

[64] 



He whose patient hands caressed thy keys 
Fixed his fiber in the centuries, 

Theme on theme 
Building stronger, higher, in ascent 

Permanent 

And supreme. 

For he suffered, and he faced his hour. 

Fought with fate, and plucked the perfect flower, 

Victory. 
Still the waves of life are bearing it. 

Wonder-lit, 

Far and free, 

Bearing olden longing, old desire. 
Pain, heroic rapture, battle's fire, 

Hope unfurled. 
As, afar, yet ever unapart. 

His great heart 

Calls the world. 

Thou rememberest the final grief. 

Deaf to thee, to all dear sound, how brief 

Was the ban ! 
How he shrank not! Thou rememberest 

Well the test. 

Well the man. 

With the last despair, that reconciles. 
Lamentation hushed itself in smiles. 



[65] 



Evermore, 
To his inner realm of tones withdrawn, 
It was dawn 
At his door. 

Up from demon-haunts he exorcised 
Shapes defeated, dark, unparadised, 

From his soul 
Giving with his gleaming faith outpoured 

Each a sword, 

A new goal. 

In serener beauty to mankind 

Went the rhythmic message of his mind, 

Sweet and pure 
From the deepest sources of his art. 

Telling heart 

To endure. 

Linger on, beloved ghost, that men, 
Seeing thee, may see his form again. 

Know his brow. 
Hear again humanity's great song 

Pierce the throng. 

Linger thou. 

And within thy silent home rejoice. 

For a million homes have caught the voice 

Of the word. 
Not in earth's pale language it awoke. 

But it spoke! 

We have heard ! 

[66] 



A HINT OF SPRING 

Drops of rain and drops of sun, 
And the air is amber spun. 
From the winter's coma pass 
Silver shivers o'er the grass. 
Little sparks of memory 
Flash upon the soul and die ; 
While a child amid the way 
Thrusts arbutus fresh and gay 
From a somewhere full of bloom. 
Earth's exultant hope finds room 
And the poorest, in the shower, 
Longs to buy a little flower. 



[67] 



THE SIGN 

Her smiling is the sun for me, 
Though in her eyes the rain-floods dwell. 
For I, who know her heart so well, 

Through love's divining, 
Can see the sudden sign, can see, 
Like to a gold-swept amethyst 
Adown the sunlight and the mist 

Love's rainbow shining. 



[68] 



THE POSTMAN 

Up the road see him pass, 
In the sleet or the sun, 
Through the snow or the grass, 
With ^'Good-day everyone!'^ 

See him patiently plod 
With our fate in his keep, 
And the same cheery nod, 
Be it sing now or weep. 

Hope has peered through a door. 
Fear the step doth forestall. 
Laughing, Love runs before. 
^ Welly good-day to you allT* 



[69] 



VALENTINE 

Lo ! he knocks at your door 
In the moonshine. 
Bid him the threshold o'er, — 
Poor Valentine ! 

Warmth may he never win. 
Cold are the stars. 
Red is the fire within. 
Fast are the bars. 

All within guards complete 
Joy warm and still. 
None saw the sorry feet 
Trudge up the hill. 

None knew the song, apart. 
Patient and long. 
None heard a breaking heart 
Sob in the song. 

Dim grows the curtained light. 
Soft is the sign: 
He may forth in the night, — 
Poor Valentine! 



[70] 



SUN IN WINTER 

The rime is wan upon the fields and moss, 
And the dark cedars crown the frozen hill. 
The maples stretch their somber arms across 
The silver air. But now an ambient, still 
And steadfast light comes widening. And be- 
hold, 
A giant herdsman drives his clouds apace 
Through bright auroral bars of changing gold! 
Behold now over all the eastern space 
Soft, infinite vapour-sheep that browse and 

spread. 
Up to the zenith mounting silently. 
While on the horizon gleams, intent and red. 
The Cyclops' watchful, solitary eye ! 



[n] 



TO MY LAMP 

I HAVE been of the day that is o'er. 
I have chatted and laughed and sought 
The something I hoped at dawn. 
And what has the day brought.? 

I have met this friend and that. 
And what is the day that is o'er.? 
A nothing, a void, a gnat 
To tease at my heart's core. 

Then come, little lamp! All day 
I hungered for thee. Outcrush 
The world with the book, the ray. 
The warmth, and the soul's hush! 



[72] 



THE WIFE SPEAKS 

(In 1871 appeared Dante Gabriel Rossetti's Poems, con- 
sisting largely of work executed more than ten years before, 
to which subsequent poems were added. Almost all of early 
date had been made into a manuscript volume by Rossetti 
for his wife during the two years of their union before her 
death. This was placed in her coffin on the day of her 
funeral and buried with her. In 1869, having for two or 
three years been importuned by many friends to consent to 
a disinterment, Rossetti yielded reluctantly, the grave was 
opened, the volume rescued, and, with additions, published. ) 

The little book is winged to outer land. 
The book is gone, that was myself, more fair, 
Myself being buried twice, when my love's hand 
Laid it between my cheek and my bright hair. 
Ceiled by the earth, it lingered long with me; 
Till in my grave one night a ray was cast, 
And life's own throbbing fingers set it free. 
The blinded songs have seen the light, at last! 

I bade my poet. He could not refuse. 
Feeling me urging upward from the clay. 
In dear old words I had been wont to use 
I sought him with my spirit night and day, 
Calling: "Beloved, O my Poet, hear! 
Rescue the songs that were my diadem. 
Hear my dead voice, the living voices clear 
That may not hush till I have yielded them. 
And shall the future say how I, asleep, 
Waking, Art's votaress, let the dust bedim 
Forevermore the token Art would keep.^^" 
'Twas thus I called. And once I sang to him: 

[73] 



BelovM^ hark! 
Draw hack your burden 
Of songs, fair guerdon 
That lights my dark. 

In aureole 

Of soundest dreaming 
Their silent gleaming 
Besets my soul. 

My soul? The seas 
Eternal hear it. 
Shall worm inherit 
The soul of these? 

Arise, efface 
The death-fast 'portal! 
Make them immortal. 
That shared my place! 

Sudden I seemed to see him, from my tomb, 
To see his head low-bowed in grief, and then 
To see him pacing up and down his room. 
And from my yearning heart I spoke again: 

"I feel the darkhng cloud your thoughts fore- 
tell. 
Ah! heed, no more than I, the folk that pass 
Ever conventioned upon taste to dwell. 
When high deeds are in balance, who shall mass 
With wit of words to prove you false to self; 
Nor those who, with a zeal to analyze 
Or turn a motive, feast upon their pelf, 
[74] 



And hover o'er the action vulture-wise, 
To scent the vapours newly wrung from grief; 
Nor calmer, loftier minds that magistrate 
Against you. They who know shall bring belief 
To your upholding. Love, no longer wait! 
Let the cloud lift. Reave dust and mould apart. 
Give reasonings none, nor answer for the end. 
Do right, and be misjudged, and trust your 

heart 
To those who trust, before they comprehend. 
Let idle tongues rehearse, untrue or true, 
A secret life's dark, troubled narrative — 
All have I seen, the best and worst I knew. 
What has the world to say, since I forgive.? 
Dear, my soul knew your impulse wild and 

swift 
Of elemental anguish uttermost 
That cast the treasure life had hieroglyphed 
With mysteries to be my fellow-ghost. 
And yet, have not the gradual after-years 
Brought you the calm to see the lights that 

brow 
The wider way? Ah, Poet, by your tears! 
Call back to earth the unborn spirit now!" 

Yes, he was great enough to see the way. 
And strong to brave the moment and the pang. 
And when resistance faded far away. 
Again, but softly to myself, I sang: 

[75] 



Now his messengers are here . . . 
Now they tread the dewfall glassen . . 
Now I feel their -fingers near 
Silently the door unfasten. . . 

Soft the light is thrown. 
"Look,'* one whispereth, 
"In the house of death 

How her locks have grown!" 

And another "There 
Should it lie. Ah, look. 
She has thralled the hook 
With her passionate hair!" 

They have closed again the door. 
Borne the treasure to his keeping. 
Messengers, now stay no more! 
Leave him to his halm of weeping! 

Leave him to his curtained thought. 
To the shadows that immure him. 
Till a destiny unsought 
With an infinite echo lure him. 

Who shall scale the magic hars 
Of the topmost towers that know them. 
Plunge his hand amid the stars, — 
While his lady sleeps helow them. 

[76] 



And I shall lie alone without my book, 
Who gathered long and close the sacred fire. 
Gently the little smothered voices shook 
Their ghostly golden shroud for earth's attire. 
Gladly I yielded them, all mine, all mine, — 
And in what pain of joy my soul unfurled 
She knows, she knows, who once, in Palestine, 
Renounced a Flower that lives to flower the 
world ! 



[77] 



THE ASPHODEL 
I 

THE MOTHER 

Now all the skill in Honolulu fails 
To keep my English motherhood from loss, 
While every hour upon my threshold nails 
The deepening shadow of a tiny cross. 

He is so small to go alone, to live 

Alone. He never was alone before! 

He is so loving, quivering, sensitive. 

Viable with the breath of beauty, sore 

And struck discordant by what is not fair; 

So darling, too, so tender; and, whereas 

His years are seven, he never could outwear 

The dear appealing ways a baby has. 

Yet when I sorrow, then, O, very close, 

His cheek against my cheek, he often seems 

The mother, I the child, so deep he knows. 

Like a still meadow where the starlight dreams. 

The priest was with me, when the word was cast. 
To tell of parting since the world began. 
He bade me think on one who, cj^cles past. 
Yielded her Treasure. Ah ! she gave a Man, 
While, in my thought's recurrence, I must view 
The daily crucifixion of a child, 

[78] 



Ever in some new grief, some horror new, 
Until I faint for him, my undefiled. 

To linger on the isle of leper men. 

Bare Molokai, where sickly noondays burn, 

Himself a little blighted citizen; 

From heartbreak morn till heartbreak eve to 

turn 
From its foul company to fix his eyes 
Upon a distant sail, a floating leaf; 
To hear at bedtime for his lullabies 
The strokes of the Pacific on the reef. 
And, in the dark, without a kindly kiss. 
To sob his soul out ! Dawn the doom destroy ! 
For I shall seek a softer way than this 
For my sweet love, my httle leper boy. 

To guide his steps! What holier joy could be? 
And with him in his alien path to go! 
But the home voices would be haunting me. 
Then shall he forth, a little outcast .? No! 
Silence, my tongue! O speak the terror not! 
I know another way. The cure thereof 
May for eternal tears be had. Forgot 
Be now the creed that I was taught, and love 
Be stronger than Jerusalem's high town! 
Though anguish of my penance never cease. 
Look, Lord of Hosts, look, holy angels, down ! 
I give my soul forever for his peace! 

[T9] 



II 

THE CHILDEEN 

Stephana 

Our house has grown so large and still, as 

though 
Sweet music had just died in all the rooms. 

David 

And in the garden, where he loves to go. 
There is a hush beneath the heavy blooms. 

Stephana 

Why has he been three days a prisoner? 
Why does she keep him ever from us all? 
We saw him from the window look with her, 
But come he will not, though we call and call. 

David 

She said our brother wearied at his play. 
That he must rest ; and one night more, she said. 
She keeps him in her room. Let us away 
To find him gifts while yet the sun is red! 

Louise 

Now pleasant lie the shallows, where the gold 
Green ripple shakes afar the diamond bells. 
I'll fill a basket high as it will hold 
With charms and pebbles and the fairy shells! 

[80] 



Hugh 
In the full stream, like strands of drowning hair, 
The silken rushes bend them to the shore. 
I'll braid them to a banner he shall bear, 
When he is captain of his troop once more! 

Stephana 
Down in the grove a bird has dropped a plume 
Of dazzling snow. I'll run, before the star. 
And find it, and I'll make him in his room 
A bonny hat as white as white clouds are ! 

David 
How sad our mother called: "Good-bye, good- 
bye. 
Dear David and Louise, and darling Hugh, 
Stephana sweet, — good-bye! The day must die. 
To-morrow come. I shall have need of you!" 

Louise 
O hurry, let us down to grove and shore ! 
For soon the dark will touch the dial's hour. 
O, we shall bring him back to us once more 
With little gifts, and with each gift a flower! 

Ill 

MOTHER AND CHILD 

The Child 
What makes the world so beautiful, so still.'* 

[81] 



The Mother 
Love makes it so. 

The Child 

Is love in everything? 

The Mother 
O, that I do believe! Though hide it will, 
Somewhere at every depth its wonders cling. 

The Child 
The world seems very beautiful . . and yet . . 

The Mother 
What yet? What thought is with you, little son? 

The Child 
I heard the story of a banished set 
Packed close upon a ship — the lepers! — One 
Stood out from all the others, lean and bold. 
Scaly, with eyes that pierced the twilight 

through. 
And those on whom he looked would horror hold. 
O mother, tell me that it was not true! 

The Mother 
It was not true. 

The Child 
Say no such beings are! 

[82] 



The Mother 
And no such beings are. It is a sad, 
False picture. Put the ugly story far. 
The world is beautiful, my lovely lad. 

The Child 
Yet when alone I shut my eyes, sometimes 
I see him gaze at me from out the dark. 

The Mother 
I'll go and bring a lamp, and sing you rhymes, 
To chase the sorry vision, as you hark. 

The Child 
Mother, come back, O hurry close to mel 
Mother, I saw him once again 1 
The Mother 

Saw whom? 

The Child 
O, him of whom we spoke! O, steadily 
He fixed me with his glances through the gloom I 

The Mother 
Be still, my child. No harm shall come. 

Flower-bells 
Are closing. Nested are the birdlings wise. 
Dear speeding rain the misty moon foretells. 
The world is beautiful. How fresh it hes ! 

[83] 



The Child 
Mother, then, mother, go and Hght the lamp. 
Stay not too long. And I shall truly try 
To think of birds and flowers, and the sweet 

damp 
That through the window comes, and you close 

by. 

The Mother 
I call to you close by, across one door ! 
{Now breathing give me courage where I 
stand!) 



The Child 



Mother ! 



The Mother 
I come! The light is on your floor. 

The Child 
The leper ! Help ! He has me by the hand ! 

The Mother 
I come, O darling! Look, the room is bright. 
And how I love you, love you ! Dear, lie still, 
Lie very still. Love holds you safe to-night. 
{And shall I dare the dreaded cup to fillf) 
Here is a drink, my thirsty love, for you. 
It is a drink more sweet than water is. 
Raise your dear golden head, and sip the brew! 

[84] 



The Child 
Another sip ! Now tell me, what is this ? 

The Mother 
It is a human soul. Now drink again! 

The Child 
I never knew a soul could taste so sweet! 

The Mother 
My darling! It shall take away all pain. 
Now quiet lie. 

The Child 
I hear strange footsteps beat. 

The Mother 
You hear the children in the garden come. 
They speak of you upon the terrace now. 
I'll sing you what they waft to you therefrom. 
(0 Sleep, come not too swiftly to his brow!) 

{She sings.) 
Now all within love's garden-light 
{Gates of a Dreamland town!) 
Upon your bed of damask white 
A pearly dove Ht down. 

A dove lit down with kisses four, — 
Fair English flowers were they, — 
And left them with the love it bore, 
And flew again away. 

[85] 



Louise's was a lily-kiss 
Upon your shining hair. 
When I put up my hand, like this, 
I feel it resting there. 

On one the dew was glistening yet. 
(O, gates of Slumherland!) 
Hugh gave his dearest violet 
To blossom in your hand. 

David a yellow daffodil 
Bade the dove bear aloft. 
It lieth on your forehead still, 
Fragrant and fond and soft. 

And all within love's garden-close 
{The little daylight slips!) 
Stephana sent a sweet wild rose 
To lie upon your lips. 

The Child 
Dear little greetings ! How I love them all ! . . . 
The dove goes winging to the moon's high 

tower. . . 
There is another kiss. . . I felt it fall. . . 
And the dove brought it not ... a stranger- 
flower. 

The Mother 

(She sings.) 
And all within love's garden-spell 
{The mother watched, apart) 

[86] 



An angel brought an asphodel, 
And laid it on your heart. 

The Child 
O, I am half asleep! But sing, but sing! 
I like to enter Dreamland on your voice. 

The Mother 
You almost fell asleep while listening. 
I'll sing another song, some drowsy choice. 

{She sings.) 
My little one is quiet now. 
The dream shall nestle on his brow. 
O Fairer than the things we dream, 
O Something Greater than We Seem, 
And Tenderer than the Earth and Sea, 
Mother my little one for me! 

The lamp is bright. Yet through the door 
Comes dark as never dark before. 
Now unto her be sorrow's strife. 
Who lifts the pain with his young life. 
He sleeps. O Love's Infinity, 
Mother my little one for me! 

IV 

THE CHILDREN. THE MOTHER. 

David 
At last it is to-morrow ! All night long 

[87] 



Pounded a deafening rain. But morning came, 
And swept the beauty of a breeze, like song, 
That seemed to say through all the house his 
name. 

Louise 
All night I dreamed about my treasures small. 
Pebbles and charms and shells of magic rare, 
And in my dream I heard them one and all 
Like fairy bells go chiming on the air. 

David 
The rain upon the roof. You heard the rain. 

Louise 
It was no rain. They chimed, clear gem on gem. 
And laughed his laughter. And I dreamed 

again : 
The bells were gone! Some hand had stolen 

them! 

Hugh 
I dreamed that all my rushes I had bound 
Beside the stream, and that I hurried there 
At dawn. No rushes could I find. I found 
Upon their place a strand of golden hair. 

Stephana 
I made a hat as white as cloud. Then look. 
With earliest sleep my endless dream began: 
The plume-gay hat my little brother took, 

[88] 



And set it on his head, and off he ran, 
I knew not whither. And I wept, because 
All night I searched the world, but found him 
not. 

Hugh 
Where is our little brother .^^ Nearer draws 
The noon. She bade us come. Has she forgot.'* 

David 
See! She is standing in the doorway dim. 
Mother! Your eyes are strange, your face is 

white. 
Mother! Where is he? We have come for him. 

The Mother 
Children, your little brother died last night. 



[89] 



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